


How the Avengers met 2020

by InkyGoat



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 2020s, Avengers Family, Death, Domestic Avengers, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, New Years, Parent Tony Stark, Parenthood, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), References to Depression, Tony Stark Has A Heart, i swear this isnt as bad as the tags make it out to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22128886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyGoat/pseuds/InkyGoat
Summary: 2020 is not celebrations, it's not questionable memes on the internet or summaries of the decade...In the MCU the 2020s were met very differently,and this is how our surviving original 6 Avengers celebrated.(not as sad as the tags make it out to be!)Update: ironic looking back on this, how 2020 is 'only sad' in the MCU... anyway, this is more focused on the events of the snap not the chaos of 2020.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Happy Hogan & Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	How the Avengers met 2020

**Natasha and Bruce**

The spy-and-assassin-turned-Avenger could cook. However, it was not something that she found enjoyable, it was just a random skill that Natasha had learned. New Year and other celebrations were the only times she showed off that skill.

Natasha decided to go for a Russian celebration, something small and classic, seeing as they wouldn't be that many people anyway. Most of her usual New Year company was either gone or busy. The first year after everything, Natasha had the new year alone, with a sad Greek salad and two bottles of champagne.

This New Year's Eve, and the turn of the decade at that, will likely be the same.

Steve said he'd be busy with his own event, Clint was off the grid, doing god knows what, and no one has been in contact with Thor for almost two years. Rhodey was going to Tony's home, a very close family dinner that Natasha declined her invite to. She didn't believe she belonged there.

The clock was ticking, and in an hour it will be midnight. An Olivier salad and piroshkis of various flavours lay on the long dinner table of the Avenger's Compound. In the wide empty space, Natasha felt more alone, yet it was also full of her fondest memories. Laughing with the team, being a family, and trying to be better.

Natasha finally sat down. The entire building was silent. Everyone had already left to go to whatever families or friends still remained. She really was going to completely and utterly isolated.

Unfortunately, Natasha forgot to buy a new drink to try out this year, a tradition she hasn't broken for years. Although it's not the most important thing nowadays anyway. After all, the world fell apart two years ago. It doesn't even matter that she'll be greeting the new decade alone.

"Is there space for two?" Or not.

In the doorway that led to the main entrance stood Bruce.

For a moment, Natasha couldn't react. They haven't spoken in months. Quick updates and little messages between one another don't exactly count as conversation.

"Sorry, I was nearby and..." Bruce walked further into the room, carrying a tote bag over his shoulder, "I thought you'd like some company. It's New Year's Eve, after all."

All Natasha did was smile to herself. Tears were stinging at her eyes, but she nodded, gesturing to the chair opposite her. Bruce took that as his clue and settled down. Pushing over a plate of piroshkis, Natasha tried to come up with a question or topic of conversation. She didn't want to just ask the usual 'how have you been' question, and yet she didn't know what else to say. So Natasha stayed silent.

"So, uh," As expected, Bruce spoke up first, "It's been quite a year. For me, at least... Um, I know you've been running things around here. How's that been?"

Natasha made a deep sigh, relief flowing through her body, as the question wasn't general. She didn't have to falsely say 'I'm alright' or 'It's fine'. There was no need to dance around for some time before finding a good start for a conversation. _Thanks, Bruce._

"It's been busy. Mostly calls with Danvers or that raccoon. Rhodey is taking care of Earth's major political issues." She replied, listing her recent work.

"Yeah, I, uh, heard about some of that. But I meant more along the lines of, like, how have you been doing? Always here, working... you know...?"

"Oh, that."

"Yeah, I just know you overwork sometimes... not as much Tony maybe, but..."

It was sometimes weird to speak to Bruce since to him Ultron was only two years ago. To him, two years ago, Natasha pushed him off a cliff to force the Hulk out. Of course, they won but at such a cost.

To Natasha, it was five years ago that she used to overwork herself, making amends after working for what turned out to be HYDRA for so long. Then she and Tony slowed down, both of them tried to have a better work-life balance. Until she betrayed him.

"Anyway, uh, I also remember you had this little tradition," Bruce leaned down to his bag, "A new drink every New Year's Eve. Um, I don't know if you already picked out something but, here's this one I remember from the night Ultron happened."

Bruce placed the bottle on the table, turning the label so Natasha could read it. Surely enough, the brand looked familiar. _Black Chalk Wild Rose_. She didn't drink it, but she remembers pouring it that night. Pouring it for Bruce actually.

The ache in the back of her throat turned to pain, and holding back tears just seemed petty now. Silently a few tears slid down. A sad smile took hold.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry...? I ju-"

"No. Bruce don't beat yourself up. It's not you, it's just that," Natasha paused to wipe away the annoying tears, "D-did we miss our shot?"

The scientist didn't answer. A few times, he opened his mouth as if to say something, only to close it again. The silence stretched on, but Natasha didn't regret bringing up their past relationship. The way they were sitting, the date on the calendar, it was almost as if they were on a real date anyway.

"Maybe," Bruce murmured, "Maybe." He added on a little louder. "I guess that's part of the gig, things don't always work-out alright."

They knew what he meant. Things really didn't turn out alright. Maybe ever. After New York, there were hundreds of casualties, and after Sokovia, and again, and it didn't matter if they won or lost, there was always a downside.

"But, let's leave that alone for a second." Bruce stood up, going to grab a couple of wine glasses from the kitchen, "I know it's been tough, but the Earth's still turning. Sun still rising. You've clearly had a long year, and I've been working on something big too. So, just for now, we're two friends, celebrating the new decade."

Popping open the bottle, Bruce poured them both a decent amount. Lifting his glass, he gestured for a click.

Natasha followed his lead. For the first time in a while, she smiled, and she smiled because she genuinely felt it.

Because she had a reason other than pity or pessimistic humour.

Because she still had a friend.

**Steve**

The old soldier had run around, putting up as many signs around Brooklyn as he had time for. He had barely even planned the event. It was an almost last-minute decision on his behalf. Steve thought he wouldn't do anything for this New Year's Eve, but even if he wasn't going to do anything for himself, the least he could do was something for everyone else.

Getting to know people, through talk groups and other events, had been his most significant achievement the year. Yet it was also one of the most painful experiences. Too many times, Steve walked into the room to see fewer people than before and then learned of their fate. It was a great relief when the person had just moved away somewhere.

But there were other answers too.

Some stopped trying to get better. They chose to drink away their problems or to rot away at home. Others chose more permanent methods to ease the pain and ended up six feet underground.

The decade would soon turn, the year 2020 inbound, and many people were going to be alone. Again. So, if Steve could help at least one person to feel less empty, then he was damn well going to do it. If a person could go on for just one more day, it was worth it.

Several people were walking on the sidewalk outside, and it eased Steve's heart when they turned to head into the building. A few familiar faces, along with a few new ones, but many were missing. Steve hoped it was because they had places to be.

Chairs were set up in the middle, with some Christmas food the captain made on the tables by the door. People were beginning to enter, and a small crowd building up in the room. Steve nodded at them as they came in, although he stayed by the window's side, speaking only when someone came up to him. He heard a number of congratulations on the upcoming new year, some just said hello, but a few thanked him too. He didn't even know how to respond.

"Mr Rogers?" A young man walked up to him, one that used to come to Steve's other group talks, but had stopped recently.

"Hey Martin, just Steve is fine. How've you been?" Martin shrugged in answer, putting his hands into his pockets. The guy was paler than when Steve last saw him, maybe a bit scrawnier too.

"Well... it's good to see you back." And it really was. Martin had just turned 22. Before everything went downhill, he was planning on going to college. Now the future seemed very bleak.

"Uh, Steve, I just wanted to thank you," Martin began, "For the past few months, it's been tough, and... I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's okay, I'm always happy to help."

They stayed there for some time before Steve chose to start the event. Calling it a party would be an overstatement, yet that's what it was. No one truly smiled, and no laughs were heard. People talked quietly in groups, about the past, and what they missed most. But also about what they've been doing to keep going every day.

Samantha found a dog with a collar and no owners. She took it in, says it helps her get out of bed every day.

Alex pursued their previous dream of cooking, mostly baking. They enjoyed it before, and have started to again.

Harry started teaching again, thrown himself into lesson after lesson. He hopes to build a future for the younger generation.

Steve walked between groups, playing his role of the host. There wasn't that much food, seeing how last minute the event was, and it began to run out quickly. People didn't seem to mind though, there were enough drinks, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic. The company was helpful too.

People mingled, some cried, others stood by the walls taking everything in. Martin didn't speak much, but he seemed to be smiling the most. Just watching everything unfold. Steve hoped that was a good sign.

Everyone stayed like that till midnight.

Although no fireworks were booming in the distance, no flashes lighting up the sky. There were no cheers of celebration, just quiet acknowledgements that it's the new year, the new decade even.

Steve didn't know what everyone did after, just that most of them left in groups. At that moment, he didn't even know if he had changed anything by organizing such an event. He could only hope.

The regular group gatherings restarted in the new decade. Alex came back, and Samantha and Harry. And many more. Some people who were missing for a while, and some who only joined after the New Year event.

All but one. The next time Steve saw Martin was in the newspaper.

After that young man's body was lowered into the ground.

**Thor and Valkyrie**

It's been two years since the surviving Asgardians made it to Earth.

The Valkyrie, Brunnhilde, thought that Hela would be the worst of it, that going back to face her demon would end everything. Her people would be safe, and they could all rebuild their homes on Earth.

Then she somehow survived two more massacres.

Picked out randomly, dragged away, screaming and fighting as half her people were slaughtered in front of her. Whoever remained was delivered to their destination, Earth. Then another half of the Asgardians turned to dust.

That was two years ago. Two years ago, when she met her first Earth New Year while building new homes. While rummaging through food supplies and distributing it to the young and old. There were no loud celebrations and no bright fireworks lighting up the sky, nothing like the usual Midgardian New Years that Thor had once told her about, long ago on that ship.

Speaking of her King, Thor hasn't been seen in public for months. Last time was a traditional Asgardian festival, but then he disappeared once more.

And now the New Year approached, again, and similar to the previous years, Valkyrie worked.

She carried the heavy items, drank in between and kept going. It's not like Midgardian alcohol affected her anyway. Deep into the night, a lot of people were still working, and only when the clock had long passed midnight, did everyone begin to settle down. Brunnhilde collapsed on top of a hill above New Asgard, with yet another bottle of the strongest Midgard beverage in her hands. Building up an immunity all those years was now her curse, but at least the taste was enjoyable.

Apparently, there were usually bright firework displays in the sky and drinks with family and friends. Many areas of the world held massive feasts, and some people would go to temples or shrines, although many other unique traditions were held. It seems like Brunnhilde missed out on those traditions again, although it's not as if many Midgardians were out celebrating anyway.

So she did her own tradition; be alone and drink. She lay on the grass and watched the stars pass, even caught a shooting star twice. She heard that Midgardians made a wish upon them, but she didn't quite see the point. It's just a rock hurtling through space. Even so, it was cute.

Just as Brunnhilde sat up for another sip, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a lone figure stumbling down the hill. Of course, as ominous as that was, there wasn't anything on this planet that could or want to harm her. Not that her instincts knew that. She instantly tensed, and her grip adjusting on the bottle, ready to fight.

The figure continued to approach, barely visible in the moonlight, although it didn't seem like much of a threat.

"Valkyrie? Is that you?" _I'll be dammed._ Brunnhilde hasn't heard that voice in months. Or that nickname.

"Thor. Good to see you're still alive." She responded.

"Valkyrie! It is you! Where've you- " His sentence was cut off by a burp. "-been?"

"Where have _you_ been?" She asked back, tone a bit too sharp.

"Oh, you know, cable's finally back on." Seemingly not to noticing her tone, Thor plopped down next to her.

Looking at him up close, Brunnhilde saw the real picture. The hair that was finally long enough to form knots was a mess, the beard even longer than before, although a couple of scratches suggested that he tried to cut it himself. His clothes seemed a bit too tight in places it previously wasn't, and loose where it shouldn't be. Along with from the sunken eyes and pale skin, it was clear that Thor hadn't showered for quite a while.

Their king wasn't doing too good.

"What're you drinking?" Thor mumbled.

"Something Midgardian, they say it's their strongest." She replied, even though they both knew that their strongest would not affect her in any way.

"Well, here," Thor took out a bottle from his jacket, "It's Asgardian."

True to his word, Brunnhilde recognised the liquid. No Midgard drink was that colour, nor that consistency. Maybe someone was brewing in their homes.

She made to reach to grab the bottle but stopped herself.

The Asgardians had little hope. New Asgard was still being built, some people were either homeless or stuffed into homes with four other families. And their king was drinking himself to death.

"Sorry," She whispered, "I don't think I'll take that."

"Oh... come on, you drank a whole Hulk bottle just to ignore me."

"Yeah, well," She turned to look Thor up and down, and made up her mind, "I think I'm going to quit drinking."

Thor was taken back. He looked at her funnily, as if he wasn't sure she was really there. Though the suspicious quickly disappeared, and instead, he took a sip out of the bottle himself. "Whatever you say."

Soon after Thor went down to the village, and Brunnhilde later saw him carrying a barrel up to his home.

Her mind was made up, though. She was going to quit. Clearly, her people needed as much help as they could get. If Thor wasn't going to do it, then she'll step up.

She had already spent a lot of time drinking to forget her sorrow, and she knew it doesn't help. Not permanently anyway.

Brunnhilde will let Thor mourn for now, but her people need a leader.

**Clint**

The moon was barely shining in the night, and the cold was already seeping into the ground. People had come and gone all day long, everyone visiting their relatives and friends to say their New Year's congratulations.

Before sunset, every corner of the newly built graveyard for the vanished was filled with the public. But that was over 8 hours ago, and midnight was fast approaching. Most people had left as soon as the sky turned dark, with maybe the exception of several drunk folk who were now lying about, drowning in their sorrows.

Along the graveyard's fence walked a new lonely figure. With a large bag over their shoulders and hood covering their face, the newcomer easily avoided any remaining personnel. They had barely walked into the field, before swiftly turning into the first rows of headstones.

The stones stood several feet high. Hundreds of names slotted into each of them and each side covered from top to bottom, going on through the once empty field in alphabetical order. Too many names and each one was someone else's sorrow.

This person walked past the surnames starting with A, although they began to slow as they reached the B's section. Looking around, the person scanned the names, the streetlights providing just enough light to see.

He suddenly stopped, and with shaking hands, Clint took his hood off.

Walking up a little closer, he ran his hands on the stone where four names were carved in.

 _Laura Barton. Cooper Barton. Lila Barton. Nathaniel Barton_.

The names were close, though not precisely together, whoever carved probably didn't bother checking if they were a family. They didn't even fit in any middle names, seeing how little space there was.

"Hey babe, hey kiddos," Clint's voice was hoarse and thick with grief, "I-I'm sorry that I couldn't come by earlier. I've been... busy. I'm not going to stop, though. As much as you might not approve, I-I don't think I can. The world's a messed up place, and- and it's not fair. More people will get hurt, innocents that are trying to keep going. I'm just, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

The assassin collapsed in front of the looming headstone, tears spilling out against his will. The quiet crying slowly turned to sobbing, and then into wailing. His yells echoed in the silent night. Barely stopping to breathe the man mourned. He mourned for as long as he could allow himself to spend there.

A distance ringing of bells signalled the New Year.

However, Clint didn't move. He didn't move when the cold began to freeze him, nor when the wind picked up and threatened to end him. He couldn't care less if it did. But anger still roared in his heart, just enough to make hold on to his life and make him do something.

With trembling arms, Clint opened his bag and pulled out some flowers, his only present in over a year. After laying them amongst the many other tributes, the man stood there for a moment, before finally turning away. He slowly made his way out of the graveyard, ignoring some drunk fellow along the way, and headed toward the bus stops.

Ronin needed to get to Houston before the fifth of January.

He had a job to finish.

**Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey (and Morgan)**

For the first time in many years, Tony wasn't the only Stark in the room.

He didn't like to think about the reason why it was like that, but the truth still remained. It's not like him, Maria and Howard had that many family dinners anyway, but exceptions were made. Such as New Year's Eve.

For Tony, those dinners had slowly turned to partying, and only in recent years was it back to dinners with his family, or new family, that is. Until that whole ordeal fell apart once more. Afterwards, there were only Pepper, Rhodey and Tony.

Well, not anymore.

Little nine-month-old Morgan H. Stark lay in her soft mattress-like playground, occasionally making some incoherent sound or shaking a toy to make even more noise. Not that her parents or guests minded.

Invitations had gone out at the same time for both Christmas and New Year's, digital this time, seeing as the postal services were still in pieces. Tony and Pepper spent quite a while deciding on who to invite, especially taking into account that they were no longer just a couple of two. They had a third member to take care of now.

Happy and Rhodey were the obvious choices, but Tony tried to invite Natasha and Bruce over too. Whether or not they would show was up to them. Just a close, tight-knit family dinner, and maybe a few homemade Stark fireworks.

Or so Tony had wished. In the end, Happy could only come to Christmas, while Rhodey could only come to New Year. Natasha sent a polite message stating she'll be at the Compound. Bruce's decline came shortly after Natasha's, perhaps a sign that they were going to be together. Tony hoped so.

The Stark's dinner was now over, and so the three adults, and baby, sat on the porch, watching Tony's miniature fireworks flashing in the backyard. Pepper and Rhodey were catching up on their year, while Tony rocked little Morgan, her eyes reflecting and shining as the fireworks exploded.

The girl 'ooh-ed' and 'aah-ed' and made plenty of other odd sounds, mostly in response to the strange lights above her head, although to Tony she was speaking. In fact, she was once in a while. While he'd mumble to her about how fireworks were invented and how they worked, she'd occasionally respond with 'da-da' and melt the mechanic's heart.

With midnight steadily approaching, the two conversations soon turned into one. The adults talked about the future or somewhat tried to. Most of it ended up relating to Morgan; were Pepper and Tony thinking about kindergartens? How will they handle public attention?

"Well, Trinity seems like a good option."

"Tony, that's a high school." Pepper chuckled at her husband's thinking, "Morgan can barely walk!"

"What do you mean, she's a pioneer in her field! Did you know that the earliest babies start crawling is around 6 months," Tony argued back, adjusting his hold as if to show off Morgan, "And guess what little genius started crawling at her prime age of 6 months?"

"Tones that's not walking." Rhodey quipped back at him.

"Okay, but babies start walking at 9 months, and this little baby took her first step before that, therefore, pioneer."

The other two couldn't argue with that logic. Then again, it was quite likely that no one could argue anything with Tony, especially not when the topic was his daughter. He could probably convince just about anyone that Morgan hung up the moon and stars.

"Oh, Tony, it's almost midnight," Pepper suddenly exclaimed, "Could you fetch that bottle of wine we saved?"

A particular look passed Tony's face, somewhere between fear and worry, but quickly vanished.

"Ah, Pep, well you see, I have a baby anchor here and-"

"Tony, come on, let Rhodey hold her too. You've been hogging Morgan all evening." _And all of the past 5 months_ , but Pepper kept that to herself.

For a moment, Tony briefly considered arguing his side more, but Pepper had a point, as always. With a visibly reluctant movement, he passed his child over to his best friend. Tony knew he shouldn't be panicking as much as he was, but it seems like the parenthood separation anxiety hit him hard.

Getting up, Tony slowly walked off the porch, only hurrying up when Pepper cast him a funny look. Even as he walked through the familiar home, with many of Morgan's toys lying about, he couldn't help but feel a pained worry rise in his chest. As yet another toy nearly tripped him over, he felt more disconnected from the room, as if all that remained were toys and memories.

Pushing forward, Tony quickly reached the kitchen. _Bottle of wine, bottle of wine. For the love of- where?_ He could not remember where they stored it. Mostly because if he knew, he would have drunk the whole bottle near the beginning of the year. Back when... he wasn't doing as good.

Rummaging through first the obvious places, followed by the not so obvious places, Tony was beginning to breathe a little heavier, and walk around a little faster. Which was likely why he was not looking around as carefully.

Time seemed to pass slowly. Tony wasn't sure how long he was taking, but he knew he just wanted to go back outside. To get back to his wife and best friend, and hold his child again. He wasn't paranoid, of course not.

"Fucking bottle of goddam wine, where the _fuck_ is it..." Tony mumbled as he paced around the kitchen, occasionally glancing around the living room as well. "I mean seriously, you get _one_ toddler, and suddenly no bottles of alcohol can be placed in open view."

He finally turned to the sink, a shelf full of mugs and small plates next to it. Looking up and down, suddenly, a red reflection caught his eye. Atop the highest shelf sat a bottle. Or the bottle, seeing as they did not have any other drinks in the house. Grumbling about why Pepper put it up so high, Tony dragged a chair over.

Climbing up, he reached for the bottle, but before he took hold of it, something else caught his eye.

A dusted frame sat on the very highest shelf, right behind the bottle. Tony forgot he put it up there. When he couldn't bear seeing it in his workshop every day, he hid it away from all eyes. But of course, he could never forget the teenager in the photo.

That dumb photo for proof about kid's fake 'internship'. Both of them somehow ended up making bunny ears for each other, and they were smiling widely. Tony remembers how they could barely keep still as Happy took the photo.

Morgan was the newest child of the family, but she was not the first. Intern or not, Spider-Man or not, Peter was a part of Tony's family. Peter should have been there along with Happy, Bruce and Rhodey when Morgan was born and Peter should have been here tonight.

No wonder Tony was scared to hold Morgan at first, it's not like holding your child will save them from everything.

Then when he finally did it, he could barely leave her alone. And while Morgan's toys lay freshly used around the home, Peter's items weren't touched for weeks by the time Tony got a hold of them.

Getting down from the chair, Tony held both the bottle and frame. His chest ached, and eyes stung. Barely two years had passed since-

 _Separation anxiety is a bitch._ Tightly holding the framed photo, Tony marched back to the porch, eager to see Morgan. Not to mention, hopefully being surrounded by friends would stop the tears that threatened to fall.

When the clock hit 12, three adults, one child and a photograph greeted the new decade at the Stark's home.

And every one of them was wished a happy new decade.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so this idea popped into my head and I somehow managed to finish writing it all in just 4 days, honestly a new record for me.
> 
> this is a ONE-SHOT story by the way!  
> I could only continue it by writing the next part for 2021, but there probably wouldn't be much of a difference anyway, so probably not. Maybe if I'm still writing in 2023 I can revisit this?
> 
> Feedback is welcome, I hope you enjoyed!  
> Happy 2020 to all of you!


End file.
